The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation''s Crisis by Joseph A. Altsheler
CHAPTER XII. THROUGH THE BLUEGRASS
Dick's horse had had a good rest, and he was fighting for his headbefore they were clear of the outskirts of Pendleton. When the roademerged once more into the deep woods the boy gave him the rein. It waswell past midnight now, and he wished to reach the army before dawn.
Soon the great horse was galloping, and Dick felt exhilaration as thecool air of early October rushed past. The heat in both east and westhad been so long and intense, that year, that the coming of autumn wasfull of tonic. Yet the uncommon dryness, the least rainy summer andautumn in two generations, still prevailed. The hoofs of Dick's horseleft a cloud of dust behind him. The leaves of the trees were fallingalready, rustling dryly as they fell. Brooks that were old friends ofhis and that he had never known to go dry before were merely chains ofyellow pools in a shallow bed.
He watered his horse at one or two of the creeks that still flowed ingood volume, and then went on again, sometimes at a gallop. He passedbut one horseman, a farmer who evidently had taken an unusually earlystart for a mill, as a sack of corn lay across his saddle behind him.Dick nodded but the farmer stared open-mouthed at the youth in the blueuniform who flew past him.
Dick never looked back and by dawn he was with the army. He foundColonel Winchester taking breakfast under the thin shade of an oak, andjoined him.
"What did you find, Dick?" asked the colonel, striving to hide the noteof anxiety in his voice.
"I found all right at the house, but I did not see mother."
"What had become of her?"
"I learned from a friend that in order to be out of the path of the armyor of prowling bands she had gone to relatives of ours in Danville. ThenI came away."
"She did well," said Colonel Winchester. "The rebels are concentratingabout Lexington, but the battle, I think, will take place far south ofthat city."
Before the day was old they heard news that changed their opinionfor the time at least. A scout brought news that a division of theConfederate army was much nearer than Lexington; in fact, that it wasat Frankfort, the capital of the state. And the news was heightened ininterest by the statement that the division was there to assist in theinauguration of a Confederate government of the state, so little ofwhich the Confederate army held.
Colonel Winchester at once applied to General Buell for permission fora few officers like himself, natives of Kentucky and familiar with theregion, to ride forward and see what the enemy was really doing. Dickwas present at the interview and it was characteristic.
"If you leave, what of your regiment, Colonel Winchester?" said GeneralBuell.
"I shall certainly rejoin it in time for battle."
"Suppose the enemy should prevent you?"
"He cannot do so."
"I remember you at Shiloh. You did good work there."
"Thank you, sir."
"And this lad, Lieutenant Mason, he has also done well. But he isyoung."
"I can vouch for him, sir."
"Then take twenty of your bravest and most intelligent men and ridetoward Frankfort. It may be that we shall have to take a part in thisinauguration, which I hear is scheduled for to-morrow."
"It may be so, sir," said Colonel Winchester, returning General Buell'sgrim smile. Then he and Dick saluted and withdrew.
But it did not take the colonel long to make his preparations. Among histwenty men all were natives of Kentucky except Warner, Penningtonand Sergeant Whitley. Two were from Frankfort itself, and they wereconfident that they could approach through the hills with comparativesecurity, the little capital nestling in its little valley.
They rode rapidly and by nightfall drew near to the rough Benson Hills,which suddenly shooting up in a beautiful rolling country, hem in thecapital. Although it was now the third day of October the littleparty marked anew the extreme dryness and the shrunken condition ofeverything. It was all the more remarkable as no region in the world isbetter watered than Kentucky, with many great rivers, more small ones,and innumerable creeks and brooks. There are few points in the statewhere a man can be more than a mile from running water.
The dryness impressed Dick. They had dust here, as they had had it inVirginia, but there it was trampled up by great armies. Here it wasraised by their own little party, and as the October winds swept acrossthe dry fields it filled their eyes with particles. Yet it was one ofthe finest regions of the world, underlaid with vitalizing limestone,a land where the grass grows thick and long and does not die even inwinter.
"If one were superstitious," said Dick, "he could think it was apunishment sent upon us all for fighting so much, and for killing somany men about questions that lots of us don't understand, and that atleast could have been settled in some other way."
"It's easy enough to imagine it so," said Warner in his precise way,"but after all, despite the reasons against it, here we are fighting andkilling one another with a persistence that has never been surpassed.It's a perfectly simple question in mathematics. Let x equal the angerof the South, let y equal the anger of the North, let 10 equal thepercentage of reason, 100, of course, being the whole, then you have x +y + 10 equalling 100. The anger of the two sections is consequently x +y, equalling 100 - 10, or 90. When anger constitutes 90 per cent., whatchance has reason, which is only 10 per cent., or one-ninth of anger?"
"No chance at all," replied Dick. "That has already been proved withoutthe aid of algebra. Here is a man in a cornfield signaling to us. Iwonder what he wants?"
As Dick spoke, Colonel Winchester, who had already noticed the man, gavean order to stop. The stranger, bent and knotted by hard work on thefarm, hurried toward them. He leaned against the fence a moment, gaspingfor breath, and then said:
"You're Union men, ain't you? It's no disguise?"
"Yes," replied Colonel Winchester, "we're Union men, and it's nodisguise that we're wearing, Malachi White. I've seen you several timesin Frankfort, selling hay."
The farmer, who had climbed upon the fence and who was sitting on thetop rail, hands on his knees, stared at him open-mouthed.
"You've got my name right. Malachi White it is," he said, "suah enough,but I don't know yours. 'Pears to me, however, that they's somethin'familiar about you. Mebbe it's the way you throw back your shoulders an'look a fellow squah in the eyes."
Colonel Winchester smiled. No man is insensible to a compliment which isobviously spontaneous.
"I spent a night once at your house, Mr. White," he said. "I was goingto Frankfort on horseback. I was overtaken at dusk by a storm and Ireached your place just in time. I remember that I slept on a mightysoft feather bed, and ate a splendid breakfast in the morning."
Malachi White was not insensible to compliments either. He smiled, andthe smile which merely showed his middle front teeth at first, graduallybroadened until it showed all of them. Then it rippled and stretched inlittle waves, until it stopped somewhere near his ears. Dick regardedhim with delight. It was the broadest and finest smile that he had seenin many a long month.
"Now I know you," said Malachi White, looking intently at the colonel."I ain't as strong on faces as some people, though I reckon I'm rightstrong on 'em, too, but I'm pow'ful strong on recollectin' hear'in',that is, the voice and the trick of it. It was fo' yea's ago when youstopped at my house. You had a curious trick of pronouncin' r's whenthey wasn't no r's. You'd say door, an' hour, when ev'body knowed it wasdoah, an' houah, but I don't hold it ag'in you fo' not knowin' how topronounce them wo'ds. Yoh name is Ahthuh Winchestuh."
"As right as right can be," said Colonel Winchester, reaching over andgiving him a hearty hand. "I'm a colonel in the Union army now, andthese are my officers and men. What was it you wanted to tell us?"
"Not to ride on fuhthah. It ain't mo' than fifteen miles to Frankfort.The place is plum full of the Johnnies. I seed 'em thah myself. Ki'bySmith, an' a sma't gen'ral he is, too, is thah, an' so's Bragg, who Idon't know much 'bout. They's as thick as black be'ies in a patch, an'they's all gettin ready fo' a gran' ma'ch an' display to-mo
"No, Malachi, I don't, nor do any of us, but we're going on and we don'tmean to be taken. Most of the men know this country well. Two of them,in fact, were born in Frankfort."
"Then mebbe you kin look out fo' yo'selves, bein' as you areKentuckians. I'm mighty strong fo' the Union myself, but a lot of themofficers that came down from the no'th 'pear to tu'n into pow'ful foolswhen they git away from home, knowin' nothin' 'bout the country, an'not willin' to lea'n. Always walkin' into traps. I guess they've nevahmissed a single trap the rebels have planted. Sometimes I've been somad 'bout it that I've felt like quittin' bein' a Yank an' tu'nin' to aJohnny. But somehow I've nevah been able to make up my mind to go ag'inmy principles. Is Gen'ral Grant leadin' you?"
"No, General Buell."
"I'm so'y of that. Gen'ral Buell, f'om all I heah, is a good fightah,but slow. Liable to git thar, an' hit like all ta'nation, when it's alittle mite too late. He's one of ouah own Kentuckians, an' I won't sayanything ag'in him; not a wo'd, colonel, don't think that, but I've beenpow'ful took with this fellow Grant. I ain't any sojah, myself, but Ilike the tales I heah 'bout him. When a fellow hits him he hits backha'dah, then the fellow comes back with anothah ha'dah still, an' thenGrant up an' hits him a wallop that you heah a mile, an' so on an' soon."
"You're right, Malachi. I was with him at Donelson and Shiloh and that'sthe way he did."
"I reckon it's the right way. Is it true, colonel, that he taps theba'el?"
"Taps the barrel? What do you mean, Malachi?"
White put his hands hollowed out like a scoop to his mouth and turned uphis face.
"I see," said Colonel Winchester, "and I'm glad to say no, Malachi. Ifhe takes anything he takes water just like the rest of us."
"Pow'ful glad to heah it, but it ain't easy to get too much good watahthis yeah. Nevah knowed such a dry season befoah, an' I was fifty-twoyeahs old, three weeks an' one day ago yestuhday."
"Thank you, Malachi, for your warning. We'll be doubly careful, becauseof it, and I hope after this war is over to share your fine hospitalityonce more."
"You'll sho'ly be welcome an' ev'y man an' boy with you will be welcome,too. Fuhthah on, 'bout foah hund'ed yahds, you'll come to a path leadin'into the woods. You take that path, colonel. It'll be sundown soon, an'you follow it th'ough the night."
The two men shook hands again, and then the soldiers rode on at a brisktrot. Malachi White sat on the fence, looking at them from under thebrim of his old straw hat, until they came to the path that he hadindicated and disappeared in the woods. Then he sighed and walked backslowly to his house in the cornfield. Malachi White had no education,but he had much judgment and he was a philosopher.
But Dick and the others rode on through the forest, penetrating into thehigh and rough hills which were sparsely inhabited. The nights, as itwas now October, were cool, despite the heat and dust of the day, andthey rode in a grateful silence. It was more than an hour after darkwhen Powell, one of the Frankforters, spoke:
"We can hit the old town by midnight easy enough," he said. "Unlessthey've stretched pretty wide lines of pickets I can lead you, sir,within four hundred yards of Frankfort, where you can stay under coveryourself and look right down into it. I guess by this good moonlight Icould point out old Bragg himself, if he should be up and walking aroundthe streets."
"That suits us, Powell," said Colonel Winchester. "You and May lead theway."
May was the other Frankforter and they took the task eagerly. They wereabout to look down upon home after an absence of more than a year, ayear that was more than a normal ten. They were both young, not overtwenty, and after a while they turned out of the path and led into thedeep woods.
"It's open forest through here, no underbrush, colonel," said Powell,"and it makes easy riding. Besides, about a mile on there's a creekrunning down to the Kentucky that will have deep water in it, no matterhow dry the season has been. Tom May and I have swum in it many a time,and I reckon our horses need water, colonel."
"So they do, and so do we. We'll stop a bit at this creek of yours,Powell."
The creek was all that the two Frankfort lads had claimed for it. It wastwo feet deep, clear, cold and swift, shadowed by great primeval trees.Men and horses drank eagerly, and at last Colonel Winchester, feelingthat there was neither danger nor the need of hurry, permitted themto undress and take a quick bath, which was a heavenly relief andstimulant, allowing them to get clear of the dust and dirt of the day.
"It's a beauty of a creek," said Powell to Dick. "About a half milefurther down the stream is a tremendous tree on which is cut with apenknife, 'Dan'l Boone killed a bar here, June 26, 1781.' I found itmyself, and I cut away enough of the bark growth with a penknife for itto show clearly. I imagine the great Daniel and Simon Kenton and Harrodand the rest killed lots of bears in these hills."
"I'd go and see that inscription in the morning," said Dick, "if Ididn't have a bit of war on my hands."
"Maybe you'll have a chance later on. But I'm feeling bully afterthis cold bath. Dick, I came into the creek weighing two hundred andtwenty-five pounds, one hundred and fifty pounds of human being andseventy-five pounds of dust and dirt. I'm back to one hundred and fiftynow. Besides, I was fifty years old when I entered the stream, and I'vereturned to twenty."
"That just about describes me, too, but the colonel is whistling for usto come. Rush your jacket on and jump for your horse."
They had stayed about a half-hour at the creek, and about two o'clock inthe morning Powell and May led them through a dense wood to the edge ofa high hill.
"There's Frankfort below you," said May in a voice that trembled.
The night was brilliant, almost like day, and they saw the little cityclustered along the banks of the Kentucky which flowed, a dark ribbon ofblue. Their powerful glasses brought out everything distinctly. They sawthe old state house, its trees, and in the open spaces, tents standingby the dozens and scores. It was the division of Kirby Smith thatoccupied the town, and Bragg himself had made a triumphant entry. Dickwondered which house sheltered him. It was undoubtedly that of someprominent citizen, proud of the honor.
"Isn't it the snuggest and sweetest little place you ever saw?" saidMay. "Lend me your glasses a minute, please, Dick."
Dick handed them to him, and May took a long look, Dick noticed thatthe glasses remained directed toward a house among some trees near theriver.
"You're looking at your home, are you not?" he asked.
"I surely am. It's that cottage among the oaks. It's bigger than itlooks from here. Front porch and back porch, too. You go from the backporch straight down to the river. I've swum across the Kentucky thereat night many and many a time. My father and mother are sure to be therenow, staying inside with the doors closed, because they're red hot forthe Union. Farther up the street, the low red brick house with the ironfence around the yard is Jim Powell's home. You don't mind letting Jimhave a look through the glasses, do you?"
"Of course not."
The glasses were handed in turn to Powell, who, as May had done, tooka long, long look. He made no comment, when he gave the glasses back toDick, merely saying: "Thank you." But Dick knew that Powell was deeplymoved.
"It may be, lads," said Colonel Winchester, "that you will be ableto enter your homes by the front doors in a day or two. Evidently theSoutherners intend to make it a big day to-morrow when they inaugurateHawes, their governor."
"A governor who's a governor only when he is surrounded by an army,won't be much of a governor," said Pennington. "This state refused tosecede, and I guess that stands."
"Beyond a doubt it does," said Colonel Winchester, "but they've madegreat preparations, nevertheless. There are Confederate flags on theCapitol and the buildings back of it, and I see scaffolding for seatsoutside. Are there other places from which we can get g
"Plenty of them," May and Powell responded together, and they led themfrom hill to hill, all covered with dense forest. Several times they sawSouthern sentinels on the slopes near the edge of the woods, but May andPowell knew the ground so thoroughly that they were always able to keepthe little troop under cover without interfering with their own scoutingoperations.
Buell had given final instructions to the colonel to come back with allthe information possible, and, led by his capable guides, the colonelused his opportunities to the utmost. He made a half circle aboutFrankfort, going to the river, and then back again. With the aid ofthe glasses and the brilliancy of the night he was able to see that thedivision of Kirby Smith was not strong enough to hold the town underany circumstances, if the main Union army under Buell came up, and thecolonel was resolved that it should come.
It was a singular coincidence that the Southerners were making amilitary occupation of Frankfort with a Union army only a day's marchaway. The colonel found a certain grim irony in it as he took his lastlook and turned away to join Buell.
A half mile into the forest and they heard the crashing of hoofs in thebrushwood. Colonel Winchester drew up his little troop abruptly as aband of men in gray emerged into an open space.
"Confederate cavalry!" exclaimed Dick.
"Yes," said the colonel.
But the gray troopers were not much more numerous than the blue.Evidently they were a scouting party, too, and for a few minutes theystared at each other across a space of a couple of hundred yards or so.Both parties fired a few random rifle shots, more from a sense of dutythan a desire to harm. Then they fell away, as if by mutual consent, thegray riding toward Frankfort and the blue toward the Union army.
"Was it a misfortune to meet them?" asked Dick.
"I don't think so," replied Colonel Winchester. "They had probably foundout already that our army was near. Of course they had out scouts. KirbySmith, I know, is an alert man, and anyway, the march of an army aslarge as ours could not be hidden."
It was dawn again when the colonel's little party reached the Unioncamp, and when he made his report the heavy columns advanced at once.But the alarm had already spread about at Frankfort. The morning therelooked upon a scene even more lively than the one that had occurredin Buell's camp. The scouts brought in the news that the Union army ingreat force was at hand. They had met some of their cavalry patrols inthe night, on the very edge of the city. Resistance to the great Unionforce was out of the question, because Bragg had committed the errorthat the Union generals had been committing so often in the east. He hadbeen dividing and scattering his forces so much that he could not nowconcentrate them and fight at the point where they were needed most.
The division of the Southern army that occupied Frankfort hastilygathered up its arms and supplies and departed, taking with it thegovernor who was never inaugurated, and soon afterward the Union menmarched in. Both May and Powell had the satisfaction of entering theirhomes by the front doors, and seeing the parents who did not know untilthen whether they were dead or alive.
Dick had a few hours' leave and he walked about the town. He had madefriends when he was there in the course of that memorable struggle oversecession, and he saw again all of them who had not gone to the war.
Harry and his father were much present in his mind then, because he hadrecently seen Colonel Kenton, and because the year before, all three ofthem had talked together in these very places.
But he could not dwell too much in the past. He was too young for it,and the bustle of war was too great. It was said that Bragg's forceshad turned toward the southeast, but were still divided. It was reportedthat the Bishop-General, Polk, had been ordered to attack the Northernforce in or near Frankfort, but the attack did not come. ColonelWinchester said it was because Polk recognized the superior strengthof his enemy, and was waiting until he could co-operate with Bragg andHardee.
But whatever it was Dick soon found himself leaving Frankfort andmarching into the heart of the Bluegrass. He began to have the feeling,or rather instinct warned him, that battle was near. Yet he did notfear for the Northern army as he had feared in Virginia and Maryland.He never felt that such men as Lee and Jackson were before them. He feltinstead that the Southern commanders were doubtful and hesitating. Theynow had there no such leaders as Albert Sidney Johnston, who fell atShiloh when victory was in Southern hands and before it had time to slipfrom their grasp.
So the army dropped slowly down eastward and southward through theBluegrass. May and Powell had obtained but a brief glimpse of theirhome town, before they were on their way again with a purpose which hadlittle to do with such peaceful things as home.
Dick saw with dismay that the concentric march of the armies wasbringing them toward the very region into which his mother had fled forrefuge. She was at Danville, which is in the county of Boyle, and heheard now that the Confederate army, or at least a large division ofit, was gathering at a group of splendid springs near a village calledPerryville in the same county. But second thought told him that shewould be safe yet in Danville, as he began to feel sure now that themeeting of the armies would be at Perryville.
Dick's certainty grew out of the fact that the great springs were aboutPerryville. The extraordinary drouth and the remarkable phenomenon ofbrooks drying up in Kentucky had continued. Water, cool and fresh formany thousands of men, was wanted or typhoid would come.
This need of vast quantities of water fresh and cool from the earth, wasobvious to everybody, and the men marched gladly toward the springs.The march would serve two purposes: it would quench their thirst, and itwould bring on the battle they wanted to clear Kentucky of the enemy.
"Fine country, this of yours, Dick," said Warner as they rode sideby side. "I don't think I ever saw dust of a higher quality. It siftsthrough everything, fills your eyes, nose and mouth and then goes downunder your collar and gives you a neat and continuous dust bath."
"You mustn't judge us by this phenomenon," said Dick. "It has nothappened before since the white man came, and it won't happen again in ahundred years."
"You may speak with certainty of the past, Dickie, my lad, but I don'tthink we can tell much about the next century. I'll grant the fact,however, that fifty or a hundred thousand men marching through a drycountry anywhere are likely to raise a lot of dust. Still, Dickie, myboy, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but if I live through this, asI mean to do, I intend to call it the Dusty Campaign."
"Call it what you like if in the end you call it victory."
"The dust doesn't hurt me," said Pennington. "I've seen it as dry asa bone on the plains with great clouds of it rolling away behind thebuffalo herds. There's nothing the matter with dust. Country dust is oneof the cleanest things in the world."
"That's so," said Warner, "but it tickles and makes you hot. I shouldsay that despite its cleanly qualities, of which you speak, Frank, myfriend, its power to annoy is unsurpassed. Remember that bath we took inthe creek the night we went to Frankfort. Did you ever before see suchcool running water, and Dickie, old boy, remember how much there was ofit! It was just as deep and cool and fine after we left it."
"George," said Dick, as he wiped his dusty face, "if you say anythingmore about the creek and its cool water this army will lose a capablelieutenant, and it will lose him mighty soon. It will be necessary, too,to bury him very far from his home in Vermont."
"Keep cool, Dickie boy, and let who will be dusty. Brooks may fail oncein a hundred years in Kentucky, but they haven't failed in a thousand inVermont. You need not remind me that the white man has been there onlytwo or three hundred years. My information comes straight from avery old Indian chief who was the depository of tribal recollectionsabsolutely unassailable. The streams even in midsummer come down as fulland cold as ever from the mountains."
"We'll have water and plenty of it in a day or two. The scouts say thatthe Confederate force at the springs is not strong enough to withstandus."
"But General Buell, no
"Has he done that?" exclaimed Dick aghast. Like other young officers hefelt perfectly competent to criticize anybody.
"He has, and it seems to me that when the enemy divided was the time forus to unite or remain united. Then we could scoop him up in detail. Why,Dick, with an army of sixty thousand men or so, made of such material asours has shown itself to be, we could surely beat any Southern force inKentucky!"
"Especially as we have no Lees and Stonewall Jacksons to fight."
"Maybe General Buell has divided his force in order to obtain plenty ofwater," said Pennington. "We fellows ought to be fair to him."
"Perhaps you're right," said Warner, "and you're right when you say weought to be fair to him. I know it will be a great relief to GeneralBuell to find that we three are supporting his management of this army.Shall I go and tell him, Frank?"
"Not now, but you can a little later on. Suppose you wait until a day ortwo after the battle which we all believe is coming."
The three boys were really in high spirits. Little troubled them but thedryness and the dust. They had tasted so much of defeat and drawn battlein the east that they had an actual physical sense of better things inthe west. The horizons were wider, the mountains were lower, and therewas not so much enveloping forest. They did not have the stranglingsensation, mental only, which came from the fear that hostile armieswould suddenly rush from the woods and fall upon their flank.
Besides, there was Shiloh. After all, they had won Shiloh, and thecoming of this very Buell who led them now had enabled them to win it.And Shiloh was the only great battle that they had yet really won.
They camped that night in the dry fields. The Winchester regiment was apart of the division under McCook, while Buell with the rest of the armywas some miles away. It was still warm, although October was now sevendays old, and Dick had never before heard the grass and leaves rustleso dryly under the wind. Off in the direction of Perryville they sawthe dim gleam of red, and they knew it came from the camp-fires of theSouthern army. Buell had in his detached divisions sixty thousandmen, most of them veterans and Dick believed that if they were broughttogether victory was absolutely sure on the morrow.
The troops around the Winchester regiment were lads from Ohio, and theyaffiliated readily. Most of the new men were in these Ohio regiments,and Dick, Warner and Frank felt themselves ancient veterans who couldtalk to the recruits and give them good advice. And the recruits tookit in the proper spirit. They looked up with admiration to those who hadbeen at Shiloh, and the Second Manassas and Antietam.
Dick thought their spirit remarkable. They were not daunted at all bythe great failures in the east. They did not discount the valor of theSouthern troops, but they asked to be led against them.
"Come over here," said one of the Ohio boys to Dick. "Ahead of us andon the side there's rough ground with thick woods and deep ravines. I'llshow you something just at the edge of the woods. Bring your friendswith you."
The twilight had already turned to night and Dick, calling Warner andPennington, went with his new friend. There, flowing from under a greatstone, shaded by a huge oak, was a tiny stream of pure cold water acouple of inches deep but seven or eight inches broad. Under the stonea beautiful basin a foot and a half across and about as deep had beenchiselled out.
"A lot of us found it here," said the Ohio boy, "and we found, too, atin cup chained to a staple driven into the stone. See, it's here still.We haven't broken the chain. I suppose it belongs to some farmer closeby. The boys brought other tin cups and we drank so fast that the brookitself became dry. The water never got any further than the pool. Isuppose it's just started again. Drink."
The boys drank deeply and gratefully. No such refreshing stream had everflowed down their throats before.
"Ohio," said Dick, "you're a lovely, dirty angel."
"I guess I am," said Ohio, "'cause I found the spring. It turned me froman old man back to a boy again. Cold as ice, ain't it? I can tell youwhy. This spring starts right at the North Pole, right under the poleitself, dives away down into the earth, comes under Bering Sea and thenunder British America, and then under the lakes, and then under Ohio,and then under a part of Kentucky, and then comes out here especially tooblige us, this being a dry season."
"I believe every word you say, Ohio," said Warner, "since yourstatements are proved by the quality of the water. I could easilydemonstrate it as a mathematical proposition."
"Don't you pay any attention to him, Ohio," said Dick. "He's fromVermont, and he's so full of big words that he's bound to get rid ofsome of them."
"I'm not doubting you, Vermont," said Ohio. "As you believe every word Isaid, I believe every word you said."
"There's nothing extraordinary about them things," said another Ohioboy belonging to a different brigade, who was sitting near. "Do you knowthat we swallowed a whole river coming down here? We began swallowing itwhen we crossed the Ohio, just like a big snake swallowing a snake notquite so big, taking down his head first, then keeping on swallowinghim until the last tip of his tail disappeared inside. It was a good bigstream when we started, water up to our knees, but we formed across itin a line five hundred men deep and then began to drink as we marchedforward. Of course, a lot of water got past the first four hundred linesor so, but the five hundredth always swallowed up the last drop."
"We marched against that stream for something like a hundred and fiftymiles. No water ever got past us. We left a perfectly dry bed behind.Up in the northern part of the state not a drop of water came down theriver in a month. We followed it, or at least a lot of us did, cleanto its source in some hills a piece back of us. We drank it dry up to aplace like this, only bigger, and do you know, a fellow of our companynamed Jim Lambert was following it up under the rocks, and we had topull him out by the feet to keep him from being suffocated. That wasfour days ago, and we had a field telegram yesterday from a place nearthe Ohio, saying that a full head of water had come down the riveragain, three feet deep from bank to bank and running as if there hadbeen a cloudburst in the hills. Mighty glad they were to see it, too."
There was a silence, but at length a solemn youth sitting near said invery serious tones:
"I've thought over that story very thoroughly, and I believe it's alie."
"Vermont," said the first Ohio lad, "don't you have faith in my friend'snarrative?"
"I believe every word of it," said Warner warmly. "Our friend here, whoI see can see, despite the dim light, has a countenance which one couldjustly say indicates a doubtful and disputatious nature, wishes todiscredit it because he has not heard of such a thing before. Now, Iask you, gentlemen, intelligent and fair-minded as I know you are, wherewould we be, where would civilization be if we assumed the attitude ofour friend here. If a thing is ever seen at all somebody sees it first,else it would never be seen. _Quod erat demonstrandum_. You rememberyour schooldays, of course. I thank you for your applause, gentlemen,but I'm not through yet. We have passed the question of things seen,and we now come to the question of things done, which is perhaps moreimportant. It is obvious even to the doubtful or carping mind that ifa new thing is done it is done by somebody first. Others will do itafterward, but there must and always will be a first.
"Nobody ever swallowed a river before, beginning at its mouth andswallowing it clean down to its source, but a division of gallant youngtroops from Ohio have done so. They are the first, and they must andalways will be the first. Doubtless, other rivers will be swallowedlater on. As the population increases, larger rivers will be swallowed,but the credit for initiating the first and greatest pure-water drinkingmovement in the history of the world will always belong to a brave armydivision from the state of Ohio."
A roar of applause burst forth, and Warner, standing up, bowedgracefully with his hand upon his heart. Then came a dead silence, asa hand fell upon the Vermonter's shoulder. Warner looked around andhis jaw
"Excuse me, sir, I--" began Warner.
"Never mind," said the general. "I had come for a drink of water, andhearing your debate I stopped for a few moments behind a tree to listen.I don't know your name, young gentleman."
"Warner, sir, George Warner, first lieutenant in the regiment of ColonelWinchester."
"I merely wished to say, Lieutenant Warner, that I listened to yourspeech from the first word to the last, and I found it very cogent andpowerful. As you say, things must have beginnings. If there is nofirst, there can be no second or third. I am entirely convinced by yourargument that our army swallowed a river as it marched southward.In fact, I have often felt so thirsty that I felt as if I could haveswallowed it myself all alone."
There was another roar of applause, and as a dozen cups filled withwater were pushed at the general, he drank deeply and often, and thenretired amid further applause.
"They'll fight well for him, to-morrow," said Dick.
"No doubt of it," said Warner.
They went into the edge of the wood and sought sleep and rest. But therewas much merry chatter first among these lads, for many of whom deathhad already spread its somber wings.